


The Formal Details

by charab



Series: Stamp Of Approval [23]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Everyday ANBU, Konoha pavilion, M/M, Official affairs, kkir25, public kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charab/pseuds/charab
Summary: As ones who were trained to look underneath, they knew that the biggest meaning was always hidden in the smallest details.





	The Formal Details

**Author's Note:**

> Final scene in the series. Enjoy.  
> Prompt: Public Kiss

He was observing the early dawn from the kitchen window, a cup of freshly brewed oolong in his hands, when it arrived. The delivery chuunin bowed as they always did, swiftly and curtly, before a rather sizable package changed hands and its sender, as well as the receiver, were confirmed. After placing it onto the office table in the study and unwrapping the coarse fabric from around the box he knew to be inside, he thanked the other shinobi and let them continue their day, and then went into the kitchen to make himself another cup. Noting the time, he decided to take a shower and shave before proceeding any further.  
  
The box was not any different from the ones he had seen delivered to the Hokage Tower on such occasions in the past. Yet he knew its significance like any other educated shinobi did. The emblem on its lid was well-known among those who knew; the single camellia that marked the quality and status of the item that the floral symbol protected over the distances that it traveled. As he indulged himself by running his fingers on the smooth, light gray surface of the box and over a small seal it was secured with, perhaps to satisfy the cautious curiosity that came from the thought of soon exposing what lay hidden, Iruka truly hoped that the administrative staff at the Hokage Tower had the decency to unleash the gossip only after the final fitting.  
  
The master tailor arrived as punctually as ever, and wasted no time in opening the seal on the box and asking their assistant to aid Iruka as he prepared himself for the task at hand. The layers were few as the design was simple, and he counted himself lucky with that, considering the weight that he felt settling on him as the finely woven fabric was lifted in sight and spread out for him to admire. Not that he wasn’t aware of what had been chosen for him, for he had been one of the few to have his hand at that; but there was the difference in examining a sample and then seeing the result made by the artisans he had met. Fortunately the professionals who were accompanying him right then could read his expression well enough to carry on without expecting him to form any coherent response. He supposed that they had seen so many others before him to know what to seek in the gaze of their client, and he, like the others, was grateful for that.  
  
Two hours passed as they worked on him, finishing the loose ends that were left. Iruka had always enjoyed observing those who knew their trade and had perfected their routine to work as a well-tuned machine. There was not a single detail overlooked, no wasted movements or words in the ways they handled both the fabric and the man wearing it. Before he even thought of suggesting a small break, the assistant offered him some chilled tea and simple bites that were easy to enjoy without taking off the garment or, kami forbid, worrying that it would get dirtied. Time passed surprisingly quickly, and as Iruka commented on that, he was told that it was because he was a surprisingly well behaving client. There was no malice in the remark, nor was anyone embarrassed of the sliver of amusement that eased itself in the short conversation, making the lingering silence around them a bit lighter to bear.  
  
Probably that was the reason why Iruka was able to avoid thinking too much of anything as he stood alone in the study after the tailor and their assistant had left. Dressed in a simple undershirt, a dark green house jacket and old uniform pants, the tokujo enjoyed the comfort of the steaming tea as he quietly drank from his cup and looked at the stylish details of copper and silver against the gray background, and the dim shine of the dark fabric in the early autumn light.  
  
The low rumble of his stomach reminded him of the wisdom of eating when he still had the appetite.  
  
Two hours after having a light lunch and agonizing over his hair, he greeted the tailor’s assistant who was let into their quarters once more, only this time with two ANBU by their side. The sight of a familiar face was welcome to him, and a considerate gesture that he appreciated, as he was once more asked to undress only to be carefully dressed up into the finery that had patiently waited for its grand moment to arrive – even if it was, essentially, a mere footnote.  
  
It was a joke he had been able to crack at Kakashi during the past night when they had counted the hours to the current day. They had both laughed at that, but when he had breathed in his partner’s scent and let himself slip under the waves of fitful sleep, he knew they both knew better.  
  
At least, that was what he had been telling himself, and found himself guilty of doubting when the assistant smoothed out the final folds and checked the wayward threads from his clothed figure. A curt clap of hands pulled him back to present from his swirling thoughts and he met the knowing eyes of the assistant who nodded him to have the permission to move again. Deeming their work to be finally done, the assistant gathered their belongings, bid Iruka farewell and took their leave with the ANBU, leaving the quiet shinobi alone in the space that echoed with heavy silence when the front door was closed.  
  
Not having anything else to occupy his thoughts for the time being, he stole a moment to inspect the feel of the smooth fabric on his skin, the heaviness of it on his shoulders, and the conflicting idea of being wrapped up like an elaborate gift to be given; a vessel to convey a message. In retrospect, he could have taken a few more moments to think through the proposition that he had been given – on the other hand, he knew he would not have settled for any less. He was tempted to walk into the hallway and regard himself in the mirror that hung there, to pull down his painstakingly tamed high ponytail and redo it into a more complicated knot, but soon enough cast such vain thoughts off his mind.  
  
After a few minutes, he caught himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one with such thoughts at that moment.  
  
It was the presence of the ANBU appearing outside the study that made him admit to himself that there was little sense in stalling what had already been awaited for the whole day. In silence, he greeted his escorts and left the solace of his home. They stepped outside the residential wing and set their course towards a grand pavilion that had been built separate from the Hokage Tower. It was a wondrous building in Iruka’s opinion, one that Tenzou and Konoha’s carpenters were rightfully proud of, with its high pillars and vast hallways, delicate details in the decorative ornaments depicting Konoha’s legends, and the genius floor plan that made the venue just as easy to defend as it was to prepare for a feast. A building which, on that evening, was filled with chatter and fuss over the celebrations on the official news of Konoha’s rebuilding process being finally finished. Even the common knowledge of the festivities being merely the result of their daimyo’s insistence didn’t dampen the mood for both the civilian and shinobi guests, for they all agreed on the significance for Konoha to be able to stand back up proudly after facing the times of devastation.  
  
He made his appearance at the entrance hall, in no more extravagant manner than the noble dignitaries and shinobi ranks around him, and yet his senses sharpened into fine focus when he was greeted with a hush of recognition as the news of Umino-san’s arrival traveled among the milling crowd. He made his way past the halls and through the doorways, the pair of ANBU securing his back, while nodding his greetings to the familiar faces and acknowledging the unfamiliar ones. He was acutely aware of the way he consciously adjusted his pace and posture to fit the regalia surrounding him, how he consciously disregarded the fact that both his attire and his current company undoubtedly drew the attention of those he passed; how he took notes in everything what he saw expressed on the faces of those who he encountered and heard hidden in the words of those who had already connected the dots.  
  
He knew where to head in his search for one person in particular, a man he had missed ever since their morning kiss and who he needed to see before surrendering to the formalities of the evening. The garden he stepped into was lush and designed with a fine taste, but, at that moment, there was only one detail in the scenery that was of interest to him. Iruka let out a breath at the sight he was greeted with, and as the lanky figure who was flanked by two ANBU took notice of his presence, his lungs shortly forgot how they should behave in the situation. The gray eyes turned to peer at him under the dimly lit lanterns that were hanging from the branches above, and for the shortest moment, Iruka wondered if he was showing the same look of guarded anticipation as Kakashi did.  
  
It could be because of the occasion, but as he took in the dark colors against the pale skin, the copper and silver threads woven amid the dark charcoal gray; the simple flow of the decorative design that was exquisite enough to mark a man with a high status and yet beautifully discreet to fit the elusive character of a shinobi, Iruka briefly wondered how he could have been so arrogant to even think that he knew better.  
  
“You left your hair up,” came the murmured comment as Kakashi gave a small smile at his lover.  
  
“So did you,” Iruka quipped back with a passing grin, and finally let go of the tension that had been steadily building up in his mind when the jounin barked a laugh at his jibe.  
  
“Maa, I admit defeat on that one,” Kakashi said with a nod, and the way he then eased his posture belied of the same kind of feeling. Then he stepped forth, making his way across the yard towards the tokubetsu who noticed the shameless gaze that he gave over the other man’s appearance, and stopped just a couple of feet away from the dark-skinned man. Slowly, he lifted his hand and smoothed it against the finely dressed chest, carefully minding the work of the tailors and their assistants as he marveled the sight and the feel of his lover’s clothed body. “They did an excellent work.”  
  
“Yes, they did,” Iruka agreed, and couldn’t help but allow his own fingers fleetingly touch the streaks of copper and silver close to the jounin’s mask-covered throat. Yet despite the familiarity of their reunion, he could not stop his senses from reacting to the ANBU who were now witnessing such an intimate event being written into the new chapter in Konoha’s history. “It fits you well.”  
  
There was no need for thanks to be said, since the way the jounin nodded and cleared his throat was enough for Iruka to know that the compliment was appreciated. The smile in the narrow eyes and the softly spoken words that followed from the pale man, however, were enough to make his own throat constrict for a second. “I count that as a success, considering how striking you look at the moment.”  
  
A rise of one dark eyebrow tattled of his opinion to that line, if one counted out the tint of red that rushed over his high cheeks. “It is only formal wear, Kakashi. What’s the situation?”  
  
“Always so quick to get to the facts,” the jounin drawled teasingly, which earned him a dry glare from the other man. But he then leaned closer to the younger nin, fully aware of the impact that his earlier words had on the tokujo, even though the stubborn man refused to let it show now that they had audience. “The Kages are present. So are the daimyos with their courts. Our daimyo is beside himself with glee now that he thinks he has a chance to throw a bigger and better party than Kumo did back then. The ambassador of Wave sent you her greetings and invited us to join their party tonight at some point. Genma and Gai are in charge of the security. You have Konohamaru appointed as your aide should you need any assistance over the course of the event while I'll be accompanying Naruto and Tsunade. Naruto will most likely seek your company once he hears that you have arrived. I think Shikamaru is seriously considering a change of profession at the moment.”  
  
He knew the purpose for the tone he heard in Kakashi’s voice, the laconically given report helping him relax, and he looked fondly at the man with whom he had discovered new paths in his life over the passing seasons. “Considering the people I met and the things I saw on my way here, I am in no doubt for any of that. I suppose we should not keep them waiting for any longer.” Yet before he could step away from the jounin and take his leave back to the grand halls, a hand caught his own in a firm hold. The dark brown eyes met the steel gray ones, and for just a second, a quiet breath passed between them. The hand holding onto his own was warm, and he answered to the press of fingers on his skin, only then noticing the minor tremble against his knuckles. Before he could say anything, the ever-present mask was slipped down from the jounin's face and he was silenced with a kiss, slow and assuring. He didn’t know for how long they stayed like that, minding the fine clothing they adorned while sharing the same breath between them under the guarding gazes of ANBU, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  
  
Yet time had the tendency to cut short the moments which one would hope to last for an eternity, and soon they were reminded of the responsibilities which they knew Konoha couldn’t afford to have dismissed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
It was the pale morning light that greeted the two men who returned to the small garden, the sounds of celebration quieting around them. The steady flow of the fellow guests traveled down the hallway next to them, bits of conversations and invitations floating in the chilly air, and yet they paid no mind to any of it. For those who paused on their way to give a look at the two men, the reason for it became clear once it was noticed how close they stood to one another; how they carried their matching attires of charcoal gray, copper and silver; how Hatake-sama passingly noted something to Umino-san as he poured them cups of warm sake that he had brought with him to the garden; how Umino-san in turn regarded his Hokage with smiling eyes as he accepted the offered drink. It was an invitingly beautiful garden, not any more secluded than the rest, and yet everyone who made their way past it knew that there was no place for anyone else in it besides the quietly drinking men and their almost invisible ANBU guards who stood in attention nearby.  
  
The finely dressed crowd flocked their way down the pavilion stairs like the awakening birds that cawed and chirped over their heads in the brightening sky, while the gates of Konohagakure opened once again to welcome yet another day. The first members of the morning shift started to clean up the banquet that the guests had been enjoying through the night. Greetings for good mornings and wishes for well-earned sleep echoed in the high walls and ceilings of the pavilion, as well the loudly whispered gossips and long-suffering remarks that weren’t completely disguised by the clinks and clatter of tableware and empty sake bottles. The rising sunlight helped to chase the dusts of the night away, to find the abandoned property that were promptly put into lost and found to wait for their owners, and illuminated a stage for a rare scene which was eagerly spied on whenever someone hurried past the small garden – which was awfully lot in Iruka’s opinion. Over their second cups of sake, Kakashi agreed with him, and they shared a quiet laugh at the startled looks when they caught the next ones staring at them.  
  
“We should probably head back and let them concentrate on the cleaning,” Iruka offered to the jounin standing next to him after yet another chuunin had made an abrupt halt by the garden’s entrance and escaped with a quick turn on their heels.  
  
“Maa, you might be right,” came the amused drawl from the older shinobi. "It is still quite crowded in here."  
  
“I'm surprised that you didn't take this fuss into account,” Iruka noted with some light mockery in his voice, and let an easy smile spread on his lips as he observed the man beside him. The night had been long for them both, and Kakashi’s eyes were looking more bored and tired than usual. Yet with the light glinting on the copper and silver threads and the gentle breeze fluttering the clothes that could not hide the lean body wearing them, Iruka could admit to himself that he was, right then, looking at a man radiating with happiness. The swell of devotion that he then felt in his own chest gave substance to what he was witnessing, and as he drank from his cup, he conceded that the jounin wasn’t alone with his emotions.  
  
“Maa, I guess I had something else in my mind to miss that one,” was the light response to the quip, but there was an undertone that made the tokujo blink. Amused, Kakashi watched the brown skin of the man he had committed himself to tint with a passing red, the blush highlighted by the pale light that crept upon them. Then, the jounin gazed more properly at the man standing close to him, letting his sharp eyes linger on the sleek, high ponytail that had teased him during the whole night; the intelligent, privately smiling eyes that had followed and guided his path through the chaotic crowd; the broad shoulders that willingly shared the weight of his burdens; the nimble hands that fidgeted as they held the sake cup.  
  
The shift in the air happened like a sigh of breath that had waited for its turn, when both the Rokudaime Hokage and the shinobi academy’s headmaster paused over a shared look. The clatter and chatter around them ceased, if only for the fact that they weren’t the only ones who noticed. They both sensed it, the telling silence that slowly wrapped around them, the expecting atmosphere that could not allow even a pin to drop. They detected the tremors that had nothing to do with the morning chill traveling through their bodies as Kakashi reached up and slowly pulled down his mask, letting the sunlight brush a good morning kiss on the thin lips that pulled up in a smile; confident but with a waver of nervousness that made Iruka reflect on what he could see in the gray eyes.  
  
Admittedly, he was most likely showing it too. Perhaps that was what gave him courage to reach up and cup the pale jaw in his slightly shaking hand, to draw himself close to the jounin who did not turn his eyes away from his, to breath out the smallest confession he dared to in public before pressing his lips against the ones waiting for him. The morning air felt cold against his burning cheeks and his body released a tense shudder when the conscious thoughts of the time and the place finally reached him. Yet when the weight of the kiss eased from his lips and he opened his eyes to look at the jounin whose cheeks were colored with a blush equal to his, the tremors in his body bubbled out in breathy chuckles that were soon accompanied with the low huffs of laughter coming from his companion. The hustling sounds of passing people reached their ears once again, and they both snorted at the reproachful stares they could sense the ANBU directing at both them and the lower ranks who had remembered the tasks they should have been doing. They were feeling too elated to repent for the stunt, the last remnants of the tormenting doubts from the past hours having finally slipped off of their shoulders – which, Kakashi figured, the members of ANBU understood perfectly.  
  
For how long they stayed like that, brushing their hands over skin and fabric and stealing kisses over warm sake while the village around them woke up to the new day, they couldn’t tell. But as they were men who had been nurtured into living by the nature of shinobis, they savored the short eternity that they were able to steal for themselves, under the canopy of autumn leaves, the deep blue sky, and the unwavering attention of ANBU.


End file.
